


Somewhere Between Falling and Waking Up, You Still Hit The Ground

by SavageSeraphim



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Everyone is willing to do impulsive nonsense but Ray, Fake AH Crew, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Themes of immortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 01:07:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15830613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavageSeraphim/pseuds/SavageSeraphim
Summary: Immortal doesn't mean untouchable. Ray picks up on this sooner than the others.





	Somewhere Between Falling and Waking Up, You Still Hit The Ground

It was a balmy night under Los Santos’ usual fog, thickened with gunpowder smoke and the occasional crack of fireworks in the sky. Some bigwig death that sent the gangs of LS into uproarious celebration, quickly joined in by the regular citizens of the city eager to light off some minor explosives and break out the music for whatever occasion suited them. 

The six of them were celebrating in the own way, bevs on a rooftop pool, neon lights and fancy drinks laden with enough sugar buzzed syrup to muffle the alcoholic bite, leaving four of them not only drunk on power but also just plain plastered. 

The holdouts, naturally, were Ryan and Ray, though the former was just as manic as his compatriots, smeared with blood and facepaint and nearly glowing in the reflection of the pool. He and Gavin were getting into some sort of raucous argument, the lad drunkenly giggling through his side of it and the gent eventually shoving him into the deep end where he floundered for a moment before reaching the pool’s edge. 

It was these moments that Ray tended to sit back and watch the scene unfold, leaning his chair back nearly to toppling and sipping on a capri-sun, settling into a comfortable high and listening to the peals of laughter from the Crew, Michael’s playful shouting, Jack and Geoff’s conspiratorial snickers, Ryan and Gavin’s little spats. They played and teased and threatened like they were invincible, like nothing could touch them - 

They were right, in a way. They couldn’t die, and not for lack of trying. Not permanently, at least. No matter how torn and ragged, no matter how many pieces their bodies ended up in, no matter the weapon - usually bullets, though some had gotten creative in trying to take out the infamous Fakes. They just. Woke up. Again. And again. Continued to live, breathe, and destroy, like the most dazzling kind of parasite, leeching off the city and covering it in glamour and ruin like a race with no finish line. 

But they were wrong, too. Ray had been awoken more nights than he could bother remembering by Gavin’s whimpering, phantom aches from broken limbs, by Geoff’s shaky voice while he was still asleep, trying to bargain for his Crew, to spare them even an ounce of pain. He’d seen Michael rub at burns long since vanished which had once taken flesh away from the bone, seen the haunted look to the Vagabond’s eyes for weeks after he’d been forced to make the call, to kill one of the others before they could get caught, or when the same call was made on him. Ray had watched as Jack drove her Crew down a familiar stretch of road where they had gotten cornered in a shootout just a month before, seen her knuckles go white on the steering wheel as though the sirens were behind them again, nipping at their heels, and watched as the speedometer crept steadily up as she raced past the memories, as if she could outpace them. 

Every death took a toll. They were desperately young for immortals, children playing gods and pretending pain didn’t linger. Ray didn’t really consider himself to be all that much smarter, he still took dumb risks, still had his fair share of deaths, but it was a fraction compared to the likes of the others in the Crew. Far as he could tell, they had an eternity to collect scars, why the fuck should he be in any sort of rush to pile the trauma on early?

“Let’s all jump off together.” It was Geoff’s suggestion, surprisingly enough, peering over the roof of the building, looking down the rows upon rows of windows, sporadically lit. At the bottom, a helicopter landing pad with the Fake AH Crew logo painted in neon green, visible at every shower of sparks from an overhead firework. Most of the ridiculous suggestions came from Gavin or Ryan, Michael if he was feeling cocky which was - well, most of the time, lately. But the gent was grinning ear to ear, clearly riding cloud nine with the rest of them.

“First one who wakes up gets to raid Geoff’s top shelf!” Gavin’s gleeful voice came from the left, dragging himself from the pool. He could barely stand without swaying and leaned against Michael, who grinned and wrapped an arm around his boi’s shoulders, messing up his hair. 

“Sounds like an excellent idea boi.” 

Jack’s grin was already alight with mischief, ignoring Ryan’s miffed expression. They were all looking to Geoff, whose grin had faltered for a moment before returning full force. 

“Alright, but you gotta find the key first. Good luck, fuckers.”

This was how it usually went, someone’s hair brained idea and everyone quickly jumping on board, ready for the exhilaration of the fall, the competitive drive, the possible reward - and conveniently ignoring the fact that somewhere in between there they were going to hit the ground. 

“Everyone lined up?”

“Yeah” Ray’s affirmative came from the back of the group, lazily paced and hardly noticed. He watched them all jump, Gavin with a stumbling leap towards the edge, shoving Jack off balance as he did. Ryan and Michael seemed in a race to the edge, matched nearly step for step. But it was Geoff who vanished first off the ledge, high screams of excitement mixed with innate fear, quickly drowned out by the other four and whisked away by the wind as the five hunter vanished into the darkness, illuminated in one burst of color mere moments before hitting the ground. 

Ray didn’t see that, of course. He leaned back against the table, looking out towards the night sky, the few brightly burning stars that could cut through the smoke and fog of Los Santos’ night sky. Too stubborn to go unnoticed.

“...Idiots.”

**Author's Note:**

> You ever just get stuck on one moment in a Let's Play and feel the need to write about it? Yeah this is from Geoff's House Part 3 when everyone jumps off the roof but Ray.


End file.
